


Inebriated Errors

by insipid_rhyme



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17894492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insipid_rhyme/pseuds/insipid_rhyme
Summary: Slash is using too many drugs and drinking more than he can handle, and Axl has to provide a fast and effective method to help his bandmate wean himself off it all before it's too late... but how?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt writing for this fandom, but I am very fucking excited to give it a try. 
> 
> Be warned, I only have two chapters pre-written, and as always this is un-beta'd, and we will deal with dubious consent and drug use in this story- if that offends you, please turn back now.  
> You have been warned.  
> The rating will change from mature to explicit in the next chapter or so. Please read the warning (dubious consent!) And please don't reprimand me about reading something you didn't want to, because I am trying my best to make the warnings clear.

"You have to sign a contract," Slash slurred, stumbling forward and grabbing a ripped piece of paper from the coffee table. He held it up and waved it around, "Jus' pretend this is a... formally typed up contract, and you gotta sign it." He looked around at the guys standing around watching them, trying to contain their laughter. "And these are my witnesses to the... the case."

"You want me to sign a fucking contract?" Axl repeated, narrowing his eyes at his extremely inebriated and drug fucked band mate. "The fuck?"

"'Cos you just said if I... for, for every day I don't do drugs you'll suck my dick."

Axl scoffed. "Yeah, I only said that because I knew you would never make a day without doing drugs or drinking." The guys were all extremely aware of Slash's lust for Axl, because his inner self that was usually tucked away came out when he drank too much or snorted coke or shot himself up with heroin. He became an octopus who clung to Axl and whined when the redhead attempted to move away, biting and licking his pale neck and sliding his hands all over the singer, copping a feel. Axl tried his best to keep Slash's wondering hands to himself, but sometimes it was just easier to let Slash slide up behind him on the floor and wrap his arms around him, being pulled against Slash's warm body and being forcefully snuggled up to. If Slash got _too_ handsy, then the guys would step in and drag the whining guitarist away until he promised to calm down. 

"But what if I do?" Slash inquired, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to get closer to Axl. "If... If I can go one day without doing drugs, you have to suck my cock, and every day after that if I stay off them." 

All the guys gave Slash a considering look, wondering if it could actually work. Slash had a real bad problem with his drugs and drinking, and he had always became defensive and closed off when the guys would bring up the topic of him cutting back, but now he was adamant about trying... that's if he was promised a hefty reward from their lead singer. 

Axl scoffed and crossed his arms. "Yeah? Well, what about the alcohol?"

Slash whined. "One thing at a time, c'mon! I can't give everything up at the same time... it'll do more bad than... than good." He hiccupped after his statement, staring at Axl with his hazy brown eyes peeking through his wild curls. 

Axl sighed extremely fucking heavy, and turned to face the rest of their bandmates. "What do you think?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. Duff chewed anxiously on his bottom lip then shrugged. 

"I mean, he sounds pretty serious," the blonde murmured, "It could be really good for him."

"Well it's not exactly fair play," Axl grumbled, turning to face Slash. "Why am I the only one that has to give you daily blowjobs? Can't the entire fucking band contribute in your time of need?" he snapped. Slash whined. 

"I don't want _them_ to suck me off, I only want _you!"_ he insisted, shuffling clumsily forward and bringing a hand up to Axl's face, thumbing at his bottom lip. "I want these lips stretched around my cock," he said huskily, looking up into Axl's intimidated eyes. The redhead stuttered and slapped Slash's hand away as the rest of the guys fell over each other laughing. 

"It's real fucking funny, ain't it?" he hissed at the guys, who for their part tried their hardest to stop the laughter spilling from their mouths. "Do you particularly fancy the idea of sucking a guys cock?!" he growled, watching them sober up at the wrath of his temper. "Because I fucking don't!"

There was a prolonged moment of silence before Slash spoke up. "You can... think about it... you don't gotta decide right now," he slurred, his pupils blown up, the veins in his eyes a striking contrast. He looked completely fucked, just how he had looked for the past how many months? Nothing so far has helped him to stop using, and they were all beginning to worry about the health of their lead guitarist and the future of their band. Axl groaned quietly under his breath and bit down harshly on his bottom lip. 

"Do you promise to try? To _really_ try?" he asked Slash, folding his arms over his chest and cocking his hip to the side. "If you make it through one day then... I'll get down on my knees-" he glared at all four of them when they all collectively cheered- "But do you promise that afterwards you'll still continue to try? That you won't immediately give up after the first time I suck you off because you got what you wanted, like it was all some challenge?" 

Slash was nodding his head throughout his entire speech and continued to nod adamantly, his thick lower lip caught between his teeth. "I promise, Ax, I'll _really_ try," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. 

"You just gotta make sure the blowie is good enough that he'll wanna come back for seconds," Duff said, cackling like a witch. Axl glared at him, then gave Stevie a warning look when he giggled. Izzy just stood silently, considering the entire situation with a thoughtful look on his face. 

"You start right now," Axl told Slash, pointing his finger at him. Slash grinned and held the ripped piece of paper out to him, his grin widening when Axl snatched it from his hands and barked at Duff to find him a fucking pen. He signed his signature on the torn piece of paper and balled it up, tossing it at Slash and smirking when it got caught in his wild mane of curls. 

"Axl, that's our contract!" Slash whined, fishing it from his hair and gently smoothing the paper out, cooing to it like it was a frightened puppy during a thunderstorm. 

"I need your piss clean and your eyes white tomorrow," Axl ordered, "I'll know if you've used, so don't even try to fool any of us. And you fuckers, you all better help me keep an eye on him or so help me God, I'll throttle the lot of you," he hissed then promptly sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette, glaring up at them as he inhaled a lungful of the toxic smoke and blew it out in a huff. "Fuck you all."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on the chapter after this, so don't expect a third chapter too soon. I hope you enjoy :)

Slash was like a puppy. 

It had been about half an hour since Axl agreed to sign a "contract" involving the non-use of drugs and the scary promise to suck Slash's cock if the guitarist managed to stay away from them for one day, and now they were all sat around in the main room of Axl's and Slash's hotel room, drinking and having fun together. Axl and Slash were sat on the sofa, Izzy sat in an armchair to their left, while Duff and Stevie sat in front of them on the floor, a coffee table in between them all. They had their own music playing in the background as they hung out together. 

Slash was drunk, he had downed an entire bottle of Jack Daniels to himself and he kept giving Axl these long looks, his eyes full of badly concealed lust. Axl squirmed under his attention and made sure not to meet his eyes, instead focusing on the story Duff was telling, chuckling at the funny parts and sipping on his beer to keep himself busy. He felt the couch dip as Slash slid clumsily over to him, pressing his body up against the smaller mans and leaning close to his ear. 

"How 'bout you... you give me that blowjob in a- in advance?" he slurred drunkenly, stuttering over his fumbled words. Axl gave him an annoyed look and pushed his hair over his shoulder with a flick of his wrist.

"How about _you_ slow down with the drinking?" he shot back, bringing a hand up to Slash's bare shoulder and shoving him back when the guitarist tried to pull him onto his lap. "Cut it out!" he hissed when Slash continued trying to manhandle him where he wanted, slapping his hands away. Slash shot him an annoyed look for his efforts and groaned, throwing his head back and balling his fists up. Such a fucking child. 

"Just want you close," Slash hiccupped, giving him a pleading look. Axl rolled his eyes up to the high heavens. 

"I just want _you_ to respect my personal space," he spat back, quickly downing the rest of his beer. "I need another drink," he said, shaking his empty bottle and making his escape. He grabbed himself another drink from the mini-fridge and reluctantly made his way back to the guys. 

"Hey, Ax?" Duff asked as he returned, flashing him a dopey smile. "Me and Stevie were wondering, do you wear underwear under your leather pants?"

Axl scoffed. "Do you?" he retorted, twisting the lid off the beer in a fluid motion and taking a generous swig. He went to sit back down on the couch but a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him down forcefully. He grunted as he dropped down heavily into Slash's lap, his beer sloshing around and spilling a little over his hand. "You fucker!" he spat in annoyance, sucking up the spilled beer from his skin, "You made me spill my fucking beer!"

"Sorry," Slash mumbled, sounding anything but apologetic. "I'll buy you more, Rosie."

"Yeah, Rosie," Duff teased, his grin only stretching more across his face when Axl shot him a warning look. "You having fun sitting on hubby's lap?" he asked teasingly, making Stevie and Slash laugh. He huffed in anger and tried to slide off Slash's lap, but the arms only tightened around his slim waist, not unlike one of Slash's many fucking pythons. 

"I'm not your motherfucking pet!" Axl snapped, twisting around to glare accusingly at Slash's hazy face, his smirk dopey and drunken. 

"Mmm, yer' not getting away from me," he slurred, chuckling and pulling Axl snugly against his bare chest. "You're so pretty, Ax."

"Hey Slash, you want some coke?" Duff asked innocently, shaking the small bag of white powder around. 

"I fuckin' do!" Stevie hyped up, smiling goofily at Duff, who rolled his eyes. 

"We all know _you_ want some, Stevie," Izzy murmured, making Duff laugh. Stevie only shrugged, the goofy smile still on his face. 

"What do you say, Slash?" Duff asked again, pouring a line onto the side of his hand and promptly snorting it. Axl felt the arms around his midsection tense up, then Slash leaned his chin on Axl's shoulder, his curls tickling his skin. 

"No thank you, Duffy," Slash slurred, "I want my cock deep in Axl's throat this time tomorrow." 

Duff and Stevie squawked in surprise and amusement, Izzy raised an eyebrow and Axl grimaced, biting down on his tongue when he felt something twitch underneath him; Slash's cock stirring to life. 

"I'm not going to _deep throat_ you, bastard," he choked out, "I've never sucked a cock in my life."

"You'll have plenty of practice then, won't ya?" Slash giggled, gasping when Axl shifted around on his lap, trying to get away from his steadily hardening dick. Axl was deeply regretting changing into a t-shirt and his worn out gray boxers, because the flimsy clothing made it easy for Slash's hard cock to lodge itself directly between his ass cheeks. 

"Let _go_ of me!" Axl snapped and slapped harshly at the hands clamped tightly on his hips until they relented, then he shot up away from Slash, stumbling clumsily in his haste. 

"Holy fucking shit!" Duff screamed, and Stevie and Izzy both let out matching gasps of horror. Without Axl on his lap, nothing was concealing Slash's now raging hard-on tenting his short-shorts, sticking straight up to the ceiling. Axl could clearly make out the shape of the head, which had leaked and left a small wet spot on the fabric. 

"You were just _sat_ on that," Duff whispered to Axl, his eyes wide as saucers. 

"Good luck trying to fit all that in your mouth tomorrow, Axl," Izzy said sincerely, giving his friend a sympathetic look, making Axl scoff. 

"He's not gonna fucking _hold out_ 'til tomorrow!" Axl shouted, "He'll need a fix before then. There's no chance of him making it a full twenty four hours!" he demanded, unsure if he was trying to convince himself or truly believing Slash wouldn't last. The guys completely ignored him. 

"You gotta try go easy on him, Slash," Stevie said, his voice hushed, "That thing will destroy his voice for sure..." he trailed off, looking around at the other guys in fear. The cocaine definitely wasn't helping. 

"The- the only fuckin' thing that ain't gonna last 'til tomorrow is my co-cock," Slash hiccupped his way through his statement, smirking up at all of them drunkenly, bringing a hand down to adjust himself in his shorts, causing another terrified round of gasps. It made him chuckle. 

"Axl, come back," he whined, making grabby hands at the redhead, who shook his head and leaned against the arm chair. He looked over his shoulder at the small bedroom and wondered if he should just retire to bed. Slash followed his gaze and scowled. "If you go to sleep I'm gonna go to sleep with you."

"There's two beds fucker, so I don't care," Axl argued, raising his eyebrows. 

"I'll just sleep in the same one as you!" Slash whined, stomping his foot on the floor. Axl was about to retort, but Slash groaned. "Just come back here, you stupid fuckin' ginger dick."

The rest of the guys laughed at Slash's insult and Axl scowled at all of them, crossing his arms. 

"You're all assholes and you can get fucked," he decided, but reluctantly made his way back to the couch. "I'm not sitting on your lap, either," he snapped at Slash as he lowered himself onto the couch hesitantly. 

"Don't think you'd be able to," Duff laughed, "Slash Jr is still going strong."

"We could make it work," Slash joked, grabbing Axl's skinny wrist and trying to tug him towards him, but Axl slapped at his hand until he let go then dropped to the couch with a huff, his arms folded securely across his chest. 

"Bite me," he hissed when they all laughed at his antics. 

"If you insist," Slash slurred, sliding towards him and brushing his copper hair away from his neck before biting down harshly on the pale skin, causing Axl to hiss and shove him away. 

"For _fucks_ sake!" he growled, "Duff, can you come sit between us, please?" he asked, or more like demanded.

"You got it, boss," Duff said happily, standing up and walking his tall fucking legs to the couch, plopping down unceremoniously between the two of them. "How's your night going?" he asked innocently. 

"How's my fucking night going?" he repeated in disbelief. "Fuck you."

Duff held his hands up in surrender, turning to Slash and starting up a conversation about some shit or another. Axl sighed and looked up, his eyes meeting Izzy's smoky ones.

 _You okay?_ Izzy mouthed at him. Axl shrugged then nodded, bringing a hand up to his stinging neck and rubbing absent mindedly at the raw skin. He glanced over to Slash, seeing him laughing at something Duff said, throwing his head back and letting out a full bodied cackle. Axl's lips quirked up at the sides slightly from seeing his friend look so happy and content.

No matter what he had to do, he wanted his friend and lead guitarist to be okay. He wanted him to get off the drugs and not have to depend on them to feel something, and since Slash would hear absolutely nothing about rehab, this was the next best thing. Wasn't it?

His eyes shifted to the small torn piece of paper on the coffee table; their "contract". He inhaled harshly as the realisation of what he might have to do tomorrow fully sunk in, but he tried his best to push the fear down. Slash was his friend, if sucking his cock a few times would help him potentially get off the drugs for good, shouldn't he at least try?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for waiting for me. i always have a lot of trouble trying to maintain a steady uploading schedule-- i usually just update when i feel inspired because when i try force it, writers block comes a-knocking.  
> and i just feel icky about this chapter. i'm not proud of it. but i'm working on the next one and I'm not gonna upload it 'til i'm one hundred percent content with how its turned out.

When Axl woke up the next morning, shitty sleep and a slight hangover making him crabby, he had almost completely forgotten what had taken place the previous night. It was only when he was halfway through pouring himself a cup of coffee with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth that the memories unexpectedly bombarded him, causing him to jolt slightly with the shocking onslaught and spilling boiling hot black coffee over his hand. "Fuck, shit!" he cursed, shaking the hand lightly then sucking on the tingling raw skin, shoving the pot onto the counter with a clatter. 

He huffed and grabbed his coffee with his uninjured hand before stomping over to the couch, almost sitting himself on Duff's head before he realized the sleeping blonde was there. "Shit!" he hissed again, righting himself on the back of the couch with his burnt hand, making him wince, then pushing himself up and plopping down into the armchair next to the couch with a heavy sigh, glaring at Duff petulantly. He aimed a kick at the couch, making the bass player rouse slightly from his slumber.

"You couldn't make the walk down the hall to your own fucking hotel room, you moron?" he grumbled around the cigarette, remembering it was there, then fumbling around for a lighter. He huffed when he couldn't find one, kicking the couch again. "Hey shithead, you got a light?"

"I dunno, do you have manners?!" Duff spat out, struggling to sit upright, fumbling at a couch cushion before tossing it at Axl's head-- well he tried anyway. It fell gently onto the redheads lap. He glared tiredly at the singers smug face. "You fucker," he said, shaking his head but fishing out his lighter from somewhere underneath him and handing it to Axl. "You got another smoke?" Axl nodded towards the packet on the coffee table. 

"Get me some coffee?" Duff asked as he snagged a smoke from the packet and placed it between his lips, chuckling when Axl kicked him in the skin. 

"Get your own fucking coffee, lazy prick," he grumbled, leaning back into the arm chair and igniting the tip of his cigarette, puffing on it before inhaling a deep lungful, letting his head drop back as he held the smoke in his lungs for a few moments before letting it out. He heard Duff shuffling around and he glanced up in time to see the blonde trying to kick something under the coffee table, shooting him a nervous glance when he saw Axl watching him. He sat forward curiously. "What are you doing?" he asked slowly, frowning when the blonde flashed an anxious smile. 

"What? Nothing," Duff laughed, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Yeah, bullshit," Axl huffed, leaning forward and placing his coffee on the table and the smoke between his lips, sliding to the floor and slapping at Duff's shin when he tried to subtly kick him away. "The fuck are you hiding?" he demanded, shoving Duff's foot aside. He almost growled at the sight of the needle on the floor. "Seriously?!" he yelled, leaning down further to glance under the coffee table and yep, a tourniquet was shoved under there as well. He straightened up and glared at Duff. 

"I thought he was off that shit," he growled dangerously. "I thought he was only snorting coke recently!"

"It's... mine?" Duff attempted to lie, scratching at his head awkwardly. 

"Don't bullshit me," Axl spat. "You hate that shit. He already broke the damn contract!"

"No, this isn't from last night!" Duff hurried to reassure the fuming redhead. "I'm serious!" he squeaked out when Axl gave him a dubious look. 

"Pretty sure I would have noticed this shit under our fucking coffee table, we've been staying here like, four fucking days!"

"He shot up two nights ago when you were in bed and we were out here, and you got up to piss or some shit and he shoved everything under there... he must've forgot about it or something but seriously Axl, I'm not shitting you!"

Axl sighed heavily, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "It doesn't even fucking matter when he did it, Duff... I thought he only dabbled with this shit for a little while," he mumbled, running his hands down his face, then he looked back up to Duff. "How long has he been doing this for?"

Duff gave a small shrug of his shoulders and flashed a sympathetic smile- he didn't have to say it out loud for Axl to understand the answer; it had been a fucking while, and he hadn't even noticed.

"Thought it was just coke and alcohol," he harshly whispered, staring up at Duff with wide eyes. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?! Who else knows?!"

Duff slipped down onto the floor and placed his hands on Axl's trembling shoulders. "Just me and Stevie, and believe me Axl I wanted to say something, but he kept saying he had it under control and he was gonna cut it out real soon," Duff finished with a roll of his eyes, "I knew it was bullshit, but I still hoped, ya know? I didn't wanna have to worry you about it-- I know how stressed you are already about him."

Axl dragged his eyes up to meet Duff's concerned gaze. "That's fucking why you wanted me to sign the stupid fucking contract so much," he huffed out in realization, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "Prick. You shoulda' told me."

"I know," Duff sighed, smiling apologetically. "But I have a good feeling about this shit, Slash looked so determined to try last night-- or he seemed to, anyway. Think we have a shot, yeah?"

Axl glared at him then shoved his arm away. "Oh yeah, totally, such a great chance he might get on the road to fuckin' recovery if I hold up my end of the deal and suck him off as a reward every damn day!"

Duff chuckled awkwardly and glanced away, scratching idly at his temple, then clumsily pulled himself back up onto the couch. "Yeah, uh... yeah," was all he responded with, glancing at Axl nervously as the redhead pushed up off the floor and plopped back into the armchair, grabbing the cigarette from the ashtray and quickly igniting it again. 

Axl shrugged after a while, avoiding Duff's eyes. "Maybe he wasn't even serious, ya know? I mean, he was pretty fucked up last night, wasn't he?" he asked, fumbling nervously with the green cigarette lighter.

"Yeah he was... He's also been fucked up every other night and still desperately tried to jump your bones-" he quickly snapped his mouth shut when Axl shot him a warning look. They all knew not to speak of the shit that happened when Slash got handsy once they were all sober and level headed. "I'm sorry, okay? But... it's obvious he's a bit- taken, with you..." he trailed off awkwardly, shrugging a shoulder.

"Yeah, when he's drunk, or high," Axl said, "Or both! The entire point of this is to get him off the drugs, so maybe he won't be... into me when he's straight." He grimaced at his poor wording, dropping his face in his palms as his cheeks warmed. Duff desperately tried to stifle a laugh into his palm, shrugging at the redheads logic. 

"Yeah, you never know," he said lightly, pretending Slash hadn't cried on his shoulder one too many fucking times about the oblivious redhead sat right in front of him. 

Axl nodded firmly, apparently ending the conversation at that. "Gotta heat up my coffee now... only drink it scalding hot," he said awkwardly, grabbing his coffee and stalking off to the small kitchenette. Duff just sighed heavily in response.  
***  
Okay, so... the first show was today. They were in Brazil right now- when they had first landed they were met with a depressing welcome; thunder, lightening and buckets upon buckets of rain. Brazil didn't exactly have the best first impression, but now that the weather had cleared up four days later, it was all sun and blue skies, and Axl was trying his hardest to remain optimistic. 

They had left the hotel an hour ago to head to the concerts stadium, now they were all backstage in their dressing room preparing to put on a great first show for Brazil. Axl hasn't yet been able to shake the nerves he felt every time before a show, and looking around at the rest of the guys he could see nerves in some of their mannerisms. Stevie had his drumsticks in hand, walking around the room and drumming on everything he passed in excitement, but he kept snapping his neck towards the dressing rooms door when he heard someone walking past. For once Duff was actually warming himself up with his bass, bobbing his head gently to the subtle tones his fingers produced. Izzy wasn't really doing anything, he was just lurking in the corner of the room, hair placed artfully around his sharp features- and then there was Slash. 

He was sat on the armrest of the couch in front of Axl, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and his huge head of hair covering most of his handsome face. He was swaying himself side to side gently with the momentum of his feet on the floor, bringing the bottle up every few moments to down another couple of inches. He always drank before a show-- before, during, after-- but he was looking particularly nervous tonight. He lifted his head slightly and Axl could only just make out those dark brown eyes peeking through his mass of curls, looking directly at him. Axl glanced away quickly, a little embarrassed at being caught staring. He glanced at the watch on Duff's wrist; 7:24 pm. They were actually going to go on stage on time tonight. 

Not long after everything had been checked, the stage was ready, the crowd was roaring and they were on their way to play a great fucking show-- and that's just what it was. 

There were hardly any interruptions during the show- well besides the usual dickheads near the front continuously trying to jump up onto the stage and dive back into the crowd- they were thankfully dealt with by security. Half a dozen girls flashed him their tits, too, which certainly didn't hurt.

But, there was one moment in the show, during one of Slash's many guitar solos. Axl was so tired from screaming his heart out and jumping all over the stage-- he couldn't help it, the crowd was insane tonight, and it made him insane too-- that he was sat on his knees at the front of the stage while Slash started his solo. Axl had his eyes shut as he regained his breath, microphone clutched in his hands as he panted, when the crowd began screaming louder. He blinked his eyes open and looked beside him and there was Slash, holding his Les Paul up and effortlessly hitting every single note. He walked even closer then stood behind Axl and pressed his front up against him, his crotch touching the back of Axl's head then he subtly thrusted his hips forward, letting Axl feel the hardened bulge against the back of his skull. He stayed there until his solo was finished then he backed off, placing his guitar back in front of his crotch so the audience couldn't see his hard-on, but now it was all that Axl could think about, and he stumbled through the rest of the show distractedly. 

After the show they all headed backstage. Stevie was so energetic, practically bouncing off the walls, Duff was smirking at every girl he passed, and Izzy kept in line with Axl. Slash followed them absently, glancing up at everyone through his curls. 

"Shit, man, that show was gnarly!" Stevie chirped, jumping up and down and accidentally bumping into a group of backstage staff who were hauling equipment. "Sorry!" 

"Do we have any interviews?" Duff asked Axl, who shook his head absently. "So just back to the hotel?" he pressed, glancing at Slash then smirking at Axl. He knew they all had to behave tonight. 

"Yes," Axl grumbled, and before he even knew it they were all piling into the limousine waiting for them, not before signing a few autographs each and smiling awkwardly at their Brazilian fans. Language barriers always made for awkward encounters. Axl was sat between Izzy and Slash, bouncing his knee nervously and chewing at his thumb nail, not paying attention to the excited chatter around him until Duff leaned forward and tapped him on his bouncing knee.

"You okay?" the blonde asked, frowning when Axl just nodded. He turned his gaze over to Slash, who had his hair almost completely covering his face and was leaning slightly on Axl. "You drank a bit too much there, Slash?" he asked, slapping him on the knee. 

"Huh? No," Slash murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and squinting at all of them blearily. His gaze fell on Axl and he smiled before leaning his head on the redheads shoulder, his curls tickling the side of Axl's face.

"Are you even gonna be able to get it up?" Stevie asked, leaning forward and flicking Slash on the ear. Axl tensed. None of them had mentioned the deal between him and Slash, ignorance is bliss after all, but now the 24 hours were almost up and the panic was starting to seep in, because well... Slash hadn't done any drugs. 

"Yes, leave me alone," Slash grumbled and nuzzled further into Axl's neck, his warm breath puffing out onto his skin with every exhale. Axl shifted uneasily. 

The rest of the car ride was spent with Slash dozing on Axl, Axl fidgeting nervously while his stomach flipped in nervous circles, and the rest of the guys chattering together, mostly about the show. 

Before he knew it, they were back at the hotel. Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have edited this repeatedly and decided it's not gonna get any better than what I am capable of. So here ya go.  
> I'm feeling okay about it, I'm not the best at writing smut, but I sure did give it a good crack.  
> Please let me know what you think. I love you all.  
> TRIGGER WARNING: I've said it a thousand times but this story deals with dubious consent... please read on carefully.

Everything seemed to happen in a weird daze when they arrived at the hotel.

Stumbling out of the limo, throwing an arm around Slash to support his weight, helping him walk up to the building. Fuck, he was heavy. The rest of the guys were behind them, still so animated from their show, laughing and squabbling with each other. Axl rolled his eyes at them as he tried to open the hotel's front doors, grunting with the effort and almost dropping Slash in his haste. Thankfully a staff member in the lobby saw him struggling through the huge glass doors and hurried to yank them open for him, apologizing profusely, his voice thick with his Brazilian accent. Axl just nodded his head distractedly as he practically dragged Slash through the doors and over to the elevator.

Once they were on the correct floor and in front of the hotel room, Duff helpfully volunteered to unlock the hotel door for him, digging around in Axl's back pockets and even pinching his ass cheek teasingly. "Hey!" Axl growled, swatting harshly at Duff, causing Slash to slide from his grip drunkenly and crumple to the floor. "Jesus Duff," Axl huffed, shooting the blonde a glare. "Get him up," he ordered, snatching the hotel's keycard from his hand and unlocking the door himself. Duff hauled Slash up and dragged him into the room, depositing him onto the couch. He stared at him with squinted eyes for a moment before promptly slapping him across the face, causing the guitarist to jerk back to reality, looking around the hotel room in slight panic.

"Fucking hell, can I trust you with anything?!" Axl exclaimed, stomping over to Slash, shoving Duff out of the way and kneeling before the drunken guitarist on the couch. He had a wet washcloth in his hand that he used to dab at Slash's heated skin tentatively, brushing the curls out of his eyes. "Get him some water," he barked over his shoulder, squinting suspiciously at Duff as he hurried to obey his command, "Don't empty fuckin' salt packets in it or some shit," he said distrustfully, then focused his attention to the drunken mess sprawled on the couch. Slash blinked at him hazily, bringing a hand up to knuckle at his eyes.

"You okay, Slasher?" Axl asked, getting up from his crouched position in front of him to sit next to him on the couch. He was hovering, he was completely fucking aware, but he couldn't help the worry nestled deep in the pit of his stomach. So what, he was a mother hen. Sue him.

Duff returned with a glass of tap water. "He's fine, _mom_ ," he teased, handing Axl the drink. The singer glared up at him, then made Slash sit up straight and placed the rim of the glass against his closed mouth. Slash made a low grunting sound and shook his head slightly.

"Don't be difficult," Axl chastised lightly, "You drank your weight in Whiskey today, the least you can do is have a glass of fucking water, you child." After a moment of childish sulking, Slash parted his full lips and drank from the glass clumsily, a few trickles sliding down his chin. As soon as the first mouthful had been swallowed, Slash began chugging it, apparently discovering his immense thirst. "Slow down idiot, you'll get a stomach ache."

"My God, he's such a mom," he heard Izzy murmur quietly to Stevie behind him, but he chose to ignore his insolence for the time being.

"Get him another," Axl ordered, holding the glass out until someone took it.

"You said one," Slash slurred, leaning forward and holding his head in his hands for a moment before straightening up. "Don't want water... want more Jack."

"And I want a fucking hover car, but they haven't been invented yet," Axl retorted sharply, accepting the refilled water off Stevie and holding it out to Slash, "Here. And drink it slowly this time."

Slash grumbled but took the glass, sipping on it unenthusiastically. He drank a little less than half then placed it on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch with a dramatic sigh. "Can I have my alcohol now?" he asked impatiently. Axl rolled his eyes so hard a muscle twinged.

"I give up," he decided, throwing his hands in the air then slapping them to his thighs. "Someone get him some Jack Daniels before he throws a fit." At least he had gotten him to drink  _some_ water.

***

It had been about an hour since they all got back to the hotel.

Duff and Stevie were in the two arm chairs, Izzy was sat on the floor on one side of the coffee table and Axl was on the other side of it, sitting with his back to the couch on the carpet with Slash up on the couch to his left. The guitarists leg was pressed up against Axl's side and his hand was busy playing with a lock of Axl's red hair, constantly twirling it between his fingers, letting it fall, then doing it again.

Axl was slightly buzzed. His stomach was twisting with nerves and his mind wouldn't stop going in circles, so he tried to squash it all down with occasional gulps from Duff's vodka. He caught Duff checking the time on his watch every ten minutes or so and it was increasing his anxiety, reminding him of the seconds ticking by way too fast.

Slash was being weirdly quiet, even for him. His knee was bouncing, his lip was constantly caught between his teeth and he accidentally yanked the lock of Axl's hair he was playing with, earning him a slap to the leg.

"Are you okay?" Axl eventually asked him, twisting around to look up at him. "Are you feeling sick? Are you gonna throw up?"

Slash shook his head. "No, I'm perfect," he mumbled, flashing a drunken smirk his way. God, he was wasted.

"So," Duff spoke up suddenly, "It's almost eleven, and you and Slash made the, uh,  _deal_ last night around this time."

Axl huffed. "Who the fuck are you, our lawyer?" he spat at the blonde.

Duff held his hands up in surrender, "Hey, the man said it himself, we're the _witnesses_ ," he said with a chuckle, gesturing to himself, then to Izzy and Stevie, "And I fully intend on, ya know... witnessing it."

"Witnessing it?" Axl repeated, hoping he wasn't talking about what he thought he was fucking talking about, because... _no way in hell_.

"Yeah, you know," Duff said casually, shrugging. "The cock sucking that's about to take place in this very hotel room."

Axl sputtered, scoffed, then rolled his eyes. "Yeah, not fucking likely," he choked out, running his fingers through his hair and accidentally knocking Slash's hand away. "You're seriously screwed in the head if you think you're actually gonna be sitting here with a bowl of fucking popcorn like you're at the fucking movies!"

Duff shrugged. "I was kinda thinking I'd have my dick in my hand like I was watching porn, but popcorn works too, I guess."

The rest of the guys just laughed, but Axl's cheeks were burning and his heart was racing. He actually felt tears of frustration gathering in his eyes, and he tried desperately to blink them away.

"Fuck you," he said breathlessly, sighing shakily. "This isn't for your-- your fucking _viewing pleasure!"_

"S'okay," Slash tried to soothe him, leaning forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I don't care if they watch."

Axl growled and brushed his hand off, "I fucking do!" he exclaimed, almost whined. "This is embarrassing enough already, I don't need an audience to shove it all in my face later on!"

"Hey, what happens in the hotel room stays in the hotel room," Duff promised, even going so far as to cross his heart. "Won't tell a soul. I'll just film it and post it on my favorite porn site." He squealed when Axl threw the closest thing-- Slash's shoe-- at him, ducking just in time. "I'm just kidding!" he laughed, trying to wipe the grin off his face when he caught a glimpse of the murderous look on Axl's.

"It's eleven o'clock on the dot," Stevie piped up helpfully, grinning at Axl sheepishly.

"Thanks  _so_ much," Axl hissed, smoothing his hair down self-consciously and avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Should we kick off the nights events?" Duff asked, smirking up at Slash. "Do you need some foreplay before the main event? Maybe a little over the pants action?" he asked teasingly, hoping to rile Axl up.

But Axl just bowed his head slightly so his hair fell in front of his face like a red, silk curtain, attempting to block everyone out.

"I'm already halfway there jus' from talkin' 'bout it," Slash slurred, shifting slightly on the couch. "Ax?" he asked, rolling his head to the side to look at the suddenly stage-fright riddled lead singer.

"What?" Axl responded quietly, flicking his hair out of his face and clearing his throat nervously. "Yes?"

"I really wonder," Duff said with an eyeroll. Axl shot him a glare then cleared his throat again, nervously meeting Slash's barely visible eyes.

"And you... haven't done any drugs?" he asked, the slight hope that the guitarist sneaked away sometime during the day and snorted some coke or, even worse-- shot himself up with heroin-- rising up in his chest.

"Negative," Slash responded, shooting those hopes to high hell. "Haven't done anything, Ax, said I wouldn't."

"Well, just making sure," Axl mumbled, fiddling nervously with his slightly trembling hands.

"So, you gonna start?" Duff prodded, shifting around and getting comfortable in his arm chair, his green eyes wide with anticipation. "Because we're all ready."

Axl glanced at Izzy and breathed in deeply at the concern plastered on the other mans face. At least there was somebody worried about him. Izzy raised an eyebrow, conveying so much in that simple action alone, and instantly Axl felt more calm. He nodded his head once, letting him know he was okay, then anxiously turned to Slash. "Are you-- ya' know... Are you ready?" he asked shyly, brushing his hair behind his ears.

"Mhm," Slash hummed, bringing a hand down to his crotch and palming at the bulge in his jeans, cupping it in his hand. "Are you?" he asked, tilting his head and gazing at Axl with observing eyes, his lips quirking up into a small smirk at the terrified look on the redheads face.

"Suppose I don't have a choice," he grumbled. He shuffled over to kneel in front of Slash, his heart already thumping away with his anxiety. After a moments hesitation he brought his hands up and let them rest on Slash's thighs. There was a beat of silence before he glanced up Slash. "I... I don't know what to do."

Duff snorted. "Just do what a girl does when she sucks you off," he laughed.

"It's different!" Axl stressed, shooting him a glare. "This is fucking scary, okay? I'm probably gonna end up puking..." he trailed off, swallowing the bile rising in his throat.  _Don't puke, Axl._

"Well, how strong is your gag reflex?" Stevie asked, who was suddenly on the floor to his left. Axl gave him a weird look.

"What kind of question is that? How-- how can you even tell?" he stuttered, way too overwhelmed by the entire situation.

"Like, do you make yourself gag when you're brushing your teeth?" Stevie asked.

"Yeah," Axl said slowly, "It's really annoying, actually."

"Then that means you have a strong gag reflex," Stevie told him, looking proud of himself. "So you're probably gonna choke."

Axl's eyes widened at the blondes casual tone, breathing in deeply. Ah shit, his heart was racing. He desperately tried to get a handle on his anxiety before he really did blow chunks everywhere.

"I... _Can you shut the fuck up?!"_ Axl snapped at Duff, who was laughing so hard his face was turning red.

"I'm sorry, it's just the look on your face right now," he wheezed, shaking his head and attempting to reel himself in. Axl blinked the embarrassed tears furiously from his eyes, brushing his hair behind his ears then before he could talk himself out of it, he began unbuckling Slash's jeans, thankful he wasn't wearing those leather pants with the laces. It had gone deathly silent in the room, the only sound he could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears. As he was tugging the zipper down, an unpleasant thought crossed his mind.

"You haven't even showered," he said slowly, glaring up at Slash in distaste. "That's gross."

"Deal with it," Slash huffed out, his chin resting heavily on his chest, staring down at him through his curls. The look in his eyes was scary; primal, almost. It made the hairs on Axl's arms stand on end.

"Gross, sweaty balls," Steven whispered. Axl shot him an exasperated look then went back to his task. He swallowed thickly as he reached his hand inside Slash's jeans, then with his eyes clenched shut, he pulled him out, holding him at the base. His skin was hot to the touch. Slash shoved his jeans halfway down his thighs, spreading his legs further in his eagerness, and Axl had to count to three in his head before he could open his eyes, and the first thing that caught his attention right away was Slash's pubes. They were black and thick, completely untamed, almost as wild as the hair on his head. Axl felt a small pang of envy at how normal it looked on him, how it suited him completely. Bastard.

God, dicks really were scary. Amen.

The dick staring him in the face was a nice size, thick, and had a pretty decent length, the skin darker than Axl's own, but not the same beautiful caramel as the rest of Slash's body. He silently thanked the heavens that Slash was cut, because he honestly had no idea what to do with foreskin.

It was a while before Axl realized that he was just completely staring. His eyes wide, his mouth parted slightly in shock, his cheeks warm from the intimidation, completely horrified.

"Well?" Slash asked, jolting Axl from his trance. "You just gonna look at him? S'rude."

"Yeah, give him a lick!" Duff dared to say, leaning forward in his armchair. "Like a lollipop."

Axl's hand twitched around the length, then he slowly began stroking him, grimacing slightly at the sweat slicked skin. Grody. The head was flushed a light purple, the flesh engorged and staring him right in his terrified face, mocking him. He decided to just bite the bullet, leaning in and giving the slick head a tentative swipe of his tongue, then immediately grimaced and jerked back again. It tasted fucking bad.

"That's gross," he said flatly, though his hand kept moving slowly over Slash's length, then he forced himself to lean back in, this time licking up the veiny underside instead of the leaking head, the salty taste of sweat strong on his tongue. He did it again then swirled his tongue around the tip, avoiding the slit, then he tilted his head and sucked at a particularly raised vein, flicking his eyes up to sneak a look at Slash's expression. His head was tilted back and his lips slightly parted, eyes closed, but then he tilted his head down and looked at Axl, his eyes dark and blown with lust.

"Fuck," he hissed quietly under his breath, then he moved his hand and placed it on the back of Axl's head, "Put it in your mouth," he ordered gently, nudging his head encouragingly.

Axl leaned back slightly and licked his lips, getting them wet, then swallowed his fears and leaned in. He brushed his lips over the spitting head then parted them, enveloping the engorged flesh in his warm mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth over the raised skin. He grimaced as he tasted Slash's precome, pulling back a bit and noisily slurping it up, then he slid his lips further down the length, his tongue spasming down the underside. He glanced back up to gauge Slash's reaction, wondering if he was doing a good job or not, but he couldn't tell much by the look on Slash's face; his eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed and his mouth was parted the slightest bit, letting out tiny pants. He tried taking more of Slash's length in his mouth, attempting to keep his teeth covered, then slowly began to bob his head, only able to take a little less than half in his mouth before reaching his limit. There would definitely be no deep throating tonight.

Or that's what he thought, anyway.

Axl felt Slash's fingers thread through his hair, pulling a bit, and then he pushed his head down forcefully as he thrust his hips up weakly, causing Axl to gag so hard he thought he'd be sick. He coughed slightly around Slash's length, slapping at the hand on his head and pulling up off of him as soon as Slash removed his fingers from his hair.

"What the fuck?" he sputtered, wiping his mouth, glaring at Slash with watery eyes, "You stupid prick!"

Slash just looked at him innocently-- well, as innocently as he could look in his inebriated state, then lazily shrugged his shoulders, bringing his hand up and grasping Axl's jaw. "Shh," he shushed him, smirking, then slid his fingers around the back of Axl's skull and led him back to his hard-on, letting out an appreciative hum as Axl obediently wrapped his lips around his spitting head and suckled. "S'a good boy," he purred, and Axl felt a small surprising spark of arousal ignite in his stomach at the praise. He flickered his wet eyes up at Slash's expression and gave him a warning look before sliding his lips down his length again, wanting to go at his own pace, bobbing his head and slurping up the spilled precome when he reached the head again, even daring to dip his tongue into the slit, glancing up at Slash in surprise as the guitarist let out a loud, wanton moan. He sucked harshly on the head then slid back down again, surprising himself at how much he was enjoying this...

His hand was still clumsily stroking the thick base of Slash's cock, and he tried to lower his head enough so that his stretched lips would meet his fingers, but he couldn't manage it, Slash's cock too fucking long. He gave up and focused on paying attention to the leaking head, tightening his lips around the engorged flesh and slowly pulling back until Slash's cock exited his mouth with an obscene pop, then lowered his head and licked from his balls up to the underside of the tip, nipping at the skin just slightly. He giggled mutely at the hissing moan Slash let out, his hips twitching up from the couch weakly, looking down at Axl with pleading eyes. "Stop teasing," he whispered huskily, trying to guide his cock back between Axl's swollen lips, whining when the redhead just placed a wet kiss on the head and leaned back, his hand still jerking him lazily.

"This is fucking hot," Duff whispered to Izzy, his wide eyes never leaving the sight before him, absolutely mesmerized by the sudden confident redhead jerking Slash off, leaving the guitarist a whining mess on the couch, reduced to begging.

"Axl, c'mon," Slash demanded, impatient, grabbing a fistful of his red hair and forcing him down onto his dick, not stopping until his mouth met his hand. Slash grabbed Axl's wrist and removed his fingers from around his cock then forced his mouth down the rest of the way, smirking when Axl's nose was nestled in his untamed pubes. "There we go," he growled, throwing his head back and gasping, sounding way too feminine but he didn't give a fuck. He thrusted up further into Axl's warm, slick throat, feeling the muscles spasming around him as the redhead tried desperately to control his gag reflex, choking so hard his face started to turn red and his eyes were wide with panic. Slash let him up for a few seconds of oxygen before forcing him down again, placing both hands on either sides of Axl's head as he rolled his hips up into his mouth, staring down at him with his mouth wide open and his brows furrowed, already close to the edge.

Axl's hands smacked at his thighs, his watery eyes flicking up to glare at him as he attempted to pull away from his hold, vision blurry from his unshed tears.

"Nuh uh," Slash said breathlessly, smirking like a fucking bastard, "You were being a little tease... this is what you get. Take my cock, _bitch!"_

He punished Axl with a few more shallow but rough thrusts then a slow roll of his hips while he stayed deep down his throat, then yanked him up and looked down on him smugly as Axl tried to regain his breath, clearing his throat and wiping the spittle from his chin. "You're a fucking asshole," he rasped out, and his voice was completely fucking wrecked, making Slash feel a little bit guilty. Shit, was he gonna be able to sing in time for the next show? Ugh, whatever, who cares.

Slash could faintly hear Izzy asking Axl if he was okay, his head lolling on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as everything spun around in confusing circles. He heard Axl's deep, shot voice as he replied, but he didn't care enough to listen; he just wanted to come down Axl's sinful fucking throat and make him choke on it.

He lazily reached out without looking and grasped a fistful of Axl's copper hair, yanking him back down on his dick. He tightened his fingers in his red hair tightly and used the strands as leverage, pushing down and yanking him up and pushing him down again, setting a fast and dirty pace for the redhead and smirking down at him drunkenly as he watched his head bob up and down, only forcing his mouth down all the way a few times, each time making his hips twitch right up off the couch as the redhead gagged and coughed around him helplessly.

He could slightly feel the sting in his thighs where Axl's finger nails were digging in relentlessly, but he barely registered the pain, as fucked up and close to orgasm as he was-- he just continued using Axl as his own personal fuck toy, rolling his hips up as he forced his head down, throwing his head back and letting out a pleasured moan and holding Axl still as he finally toed over the edge after all this time, torturous months desperately wanting this to happen, and now it finally was.

The first rope of hot come shot right down the redheads constricting throat, but Slash yanked him back so only his swollen lips were wrapped around his spitting head, wanting him to taste his load in his mouth, growling as the redhead tried to pull away in disgust, only holding him tighter. "Swallow it, bitch," he demanded, letting out an inhumane sound as he saw a tiny trickle of pearly white come escape from Axl's lips, sliding down his throbbing cock. Fuck, he couldn't remember the last time he had came this hard, or this much. When it finally ended he shoved Axl's head down one last time just to draw it out, riding out that amazing fucking orgasm, twitching from the aftershocks as he held the whining redhead in place, feebly rolling his hips up before the sensitivity became too much to handle, yanking Axl off his softening member.

Axl's hands shot up to his mouth to hastily catch the come spilling from between his lips, glancing up at Slash with vulnerable eyes when he hissed at him to swallow.

"C'mon, don't be fuckin' rude," Slash demanded, "Swallow my load, Ax."

The redhead lowered his eyes submissively, and then Slash saw the bob of his throat as he swallowed, having to gulp down two mouthfuls of his seed, the singers facial expression one of complete disgust. Jesus, it's not that bad, ain't like it's brussels sprouts or anything.

"S'nasty," Axl said, his voice scratchy and raw. "Feel sick."

"At least you didn't throw up," Slash slurred, letting his head fall back, his eyes closing against his will. "Did a good job, knew you would..." he trailed off sleepily, his flaccid cock resting against his thigh, shiny with Axl's spit.

Axl sniffled and wiped his mouth with his hand, feeling like a dirty rag. He avoided everybody's eyes, feeling them all on him, and just got up and left the room altogether, going to the bedroom and closing the door softly. He immediately crawled into bed, curling up on his side with his back to the door, pulling the covers up over him completely as he sniffled again, feeling... _something--_ he didn't even know what he was feeling. He was just upset, and he wanted to be left alone.

He heard a few gentle knocks on the door before it was opened, then quiet tentative footsteps before he felt the bed dip as someone settled on the mattress behind him.

"Axl?" Izzy asked, reaching a hand out and running it over the lump of blankets, trying to figure out where his head was. "Are you alright?"

Axl pretended to be asleep, clenching his eyes shut tightly and hoping Izzy would just leave, but a small sob forced its way out of his mouth without him even realising, completely giving himself away to the concerned man hovering over him. He sniffled as Izzy settled on his side behind him, self consciously brushing his hair out of his face as the blankets were lifted off his head.

"Are you okay?" Izzy asked again, snuggling up to him in comfort. Axl breathed in shakily and shrugged, then shook his head, burying his face into the pillow as he cried silently. He didn't know what was fucking wrong with him, but fuck, he couldn't stop crying.

Izzy just held him, offering his comfort the best he could, occasionally running a hand down Axl's side and leaning in to press a kiss to the top of his head. Axl fell asleep nestled in his best friends arms, memories of his horrendous childhood coming to mind, but he pushed them aside as effectively as he could. He just needed to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to my muse... you know who you are.
> 
> also, "chucking a shitty" is Australian slang for throwing a tantrum, just in case you got confused.

Axl woke up in bed alone, figuring Izzy had snuck out when he'd fallen asleep last night. He sat up slowly and dragged a hand down his face, staring tiredly at the wall in front of him, feeling absolutely fucking done with the day and he'd only just woken the fuck up.

He fell down onto his back again with a huff, turning to his side and pulling the blankets up over him, planning on sleeping the entire day away. They had another two days before their next show, and no interviews either, so he had no fucking qualms about being a lazy prick today. He just wasn't feeling up to it.

He was hovering in that trance of being awake but right on the verge of sleep, where you're aware of everything around you but you know you're about to nod off, the only thing he could hear clearly was the inhales and exhales of his breath, but then he was unexpectedly snapped out of his doze when he heard shouting, a thud, then the slam of a door. He threw the blankets off of him and got out of bed, opening the door hesitantly and popping his head out, wondering what the fuck was going on. He saw Duff standing in the small kitchenette, leaning over and resting his elbows on the counter with his head in his hands.

"What's going on?" he asked, walking towards his bandmate tentatively, concerned. Duff straightened up and gave him a strained smile.

"Hey, Ax! It's nothing, just... some problems," he answered, sounding extremely cagey.

"Problems?" Axl inquired, stepping around him to start up the coffee machine. He spun around and opened the cupboard, grabbing out a mug. Duff didn't answer him. "What problems?" he pushed, shooting the tall blonde a furtive glance.

"Slash," Duff sighed, running his fingers through his golden hair. "He's all... moody and stuff, he ain't coping well without drugs today." He shrugged uncomfortably, attempting to smile comfortingly at Axl. "It'll get better though."

Axl immediately felt ten times worse at the mention of Slash's name, staring down at his empty mug distractedly, chewing nervously at his bottom lip. "Was that him slamming the door then?" he asked after an uncomfortable stretch of silence had passed.

"Yeah, he said something about needing to find something to distract himself with... Izzy went with him, ya know, to keep an eye on him, make sure he behaves."

Axl nodded absently, filling his mug with coffee, glancing at Duff awkwardly and immediately looking away when he saw the blonde was already staring at him.

"Are you, ya know, okay?" Duff asked him and Axl cringed at the question, grabbing his steaming mug and walking over to the small living space, sitting down and snatching up the pack of cigarettes on the table in front of him. He lit up and avoided Duff as the blonde sat down next to him, staring at the blank TV screen. "Axl?"

"I'm fine," Axl said shortly, giving him an exasperated look. "Really. Just needed to head to bed last night... was a little weird, you know."

"You could say that," Duff laughed, leaning back into the couch and examining the redhead more closely. "I'm sorry, man, I don't even know what I... I was really drunk last night-- but yeah, Izzy followed you not long after... Slash passed out on the couch, Stevie went back to our room but I stayed to keep an eye on Slash. When he woke up he tried going into the bedroom but I told him Izzy was in there with you, that he should, uh, give you some space?"

Axl just puffed on his cigarette, uneased at Duff's rambling. He just wanted off the subject. He had only just woken up, after all.

"Ax?" Duff asked, leaning forward and burning holes in the side of Axl's face. "I know you're not okay, man."

 _"I'm fucking fine!"_ Axl exclaimed, spinning around to glare accusingly at the concerned gentle giant breathing down his neck. "I am fucking fine," he repeated slowly, sighing heavily in frustration and pushing his fingers through his hair erratically. "I don't understand why you're so fucking concerned when you were all for this fucking _"contract"_ business twenty four hours ago, just fucking drop it, alright?"

Duff held his hands up in surrender, apologising meekly under his breath. Axl felt a small pang of guilt, rolling his eyes at himself as he puffed on his cigarette aggressively. You could cut the fucking tension with a knife, for fucks sake.

He eventually sighed and turned to Duff, ready to apologize himself, but he was interrupted by the hotel room door opening. He spun around and saw Slash shuffle inside closely followed by an obviously irritated Izzy. He swallowed thickly as Slash plopped down to his left, staring at him hesitantly, not sure what to say.

"What?!" Slash spat at him, glaring at him through his wild curls. "Why is everybody just fucking staring at me?!"

Axl looked away quickly, shooting Duff an astonished look, his eyes wide. Duff shrugged helplessly, at a loss himself, with absolutely no clue how to handle this side of Slash. He was one hundred percent clean and sober right now, and his drug withdrawals were eating away at him, causing him to lash out at everybody around him.

"So now everyone is gonna fucking avoid me like the plague?" Slash scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head, sending his curls bouncing.

"You need to calm down," Izzy told him, staring down at him with narrowed eyes. "We're just trying to take care for you."

"By treating me like a monkey in a goddamn lab?" Slash huffed, "When Axl has one of his fucking temper tantrums and trashes a fucking room or some shit, you all don't bat an eyelash, but oh no, watch out for Slash the fucking _junkie!_ He might stab you with a needle!"

Axl shifted uncomfortably on the couch, leaning forward and putting out his cigarette in the ash tray. He went to stand up, just wanting to get away from everyone at the moment, but a strong hand gripped his wrist and yanked him back down. He looked at Slash in surprise, and a little genuine fear.

"Don't... don't fucking leave," Slash forced out, not meeting his eyes, but his fingers loosened around Axl's skinny wrist reluctantly. He glanced up at Axl self consciously when he didn't say anything, and Axl tried to quickly school his expression into something neutral, not wanting to upset him further.

"I won't," Axl said tightly, attempting a small smile which looked more like a grimace. "You want coffee?" he asked awkwardly, reaching out and grabbing his coffee from the table, offering it to Slash. He thanked him quietly as he accepted the mug, sipping at it gingerly as everyone in the room shifted around on egg shells. Axl met Izzy's smoky eyes and shrugged when the dark haired man raised both eyebrows at him, then they silently communicated through facial expressions as Slash held the warm mug in both hands, staring down into the liquid like he was searching for the meaning of life.

"Uh, Duff?" Izzy said after a tense moment, "Stevie said he uh, had something to show us." It was obviously just an excuse to get Duff and himself out of the room, and Duff caught on pretty quickly.

"Yeah, sure man, let's go," Duff said hurriedly, standing up, and then him and Izzy were shuffling out of the hotel room, leaving Axl on his own with Slash. He felt nervous and kind of abandoned, but him and Izzy agreed through their silent conversation that Axl was best equipped at handling Slash right now.

"Are you okay?" Axl asked awkwardly, berating himself internally at the question, because he obviously wasn't okay, was he? "I mean, like-- how are you feeling? The withdrawals?"

Slash shrugged lazily. "Feel like shit, man. I can't remember the last time I was completely drug-free, and I don't wanna drink any booze for some reason. Just not feeling it."

Axl nodded empathetically. "Yeah... it can only get better though, man. We're all here for you and we're not going anywhere."

"This is the easy part. The hard part will be being clean and trying to resist the temptation," Slash huffed out anxiously, running his fingers through his massive head of hair-- they got stuck halfway through and Axl had to help him remove his hand from the mass of tangled curls.

"And you'll have us guys around to help keep you in line," Axl attempted to comfort him with an awkward pat to his knee, feeling a little stressed himself at the pressure but completely willing to take it on. Slash scoffed.

"You're the only one in the band who doesn't do any drugs, Axl," he said flatly, "I can't expect the other guys to get clean as well just because I can't handle my drug habit and they can."

 _"I'm_ here for you," Axl clarified, slapping at Slash's hand when he began anxiously picking at a scab on his arm. "Have a little faith in me, man, and in yourself! You don't need drugs to survive, you don't gotta snort coke or shoot yourself up with heroin to be in a rock band-- and yes, I know you've been doing smack again," he said accusingly, feeling a bit hurt as he glared at the guitarist.

"I wanted to say something," he said sheepishly, feeling ashamed. Axl raised his eyebrows dubiously. "I _did_ , I swear! It's just... you're _Axl_ , man. You're so strong when it comes to crap like drugs-- you dabbled in it and you got off the shit. I'm just weak," he said sadly, sighing heavily in defeat. 

"I'm strong?" Axl scoffed, actually laughing at his words. "Slash, I'm mentally fucked. I'm constantly fighting demons in my head, I'm emotionally fucking damaged-- I don't need drugs when I'm already a _wack-job_ , man. Cut that shit out."

"You're... You're not a wack-job," Slash protested quietly, picking at that fucking scab again then glancing up at Axl shyly through his curls. "You're perfect."

Axl's cheeks flushed, not expecting such words of endearment, looking away bashfully. "M'not," he said uncomfortably, huffing out an awkward laugh. He glanced back at Slash to see his dark eyes peering at him through his curls intensely, making him feel exposed, causing his cheeks to flush an even darker red. Slash continued to stare at him, his expressive eyes raking down his face, focusing on his lips before they slid up to Axl's own conflicted gaze, biting at the inside of his cheek anxiously.

There was a prolonged moment of charged stillness, their ears seeming to ring with the electricity in the air, before Slash _pounced_. He surged forward and pressed his mouth against Axl's in a sloppy, clumsy kiss, releasing a small high pitched whine from his throat, his breathing accelerating dramatically. He pulled back and stared at Axl with crazed eyes before leaning in again, but Axl turned his head to the side so Slash's eager lips met his flushed cheek at the last second, his desperate whine muffled by the burning skin.

"Slash," Axl forced out, clenching his eyes shut tightly. "You _can't_... you can't just..." he trailed off helplessly as Slash stared at him with an absolutely heartbroken look on his face, feeling like he was about to burst into tears on the spot.

"Please," Slash whispered, bringing a hand up and caressing his cheek with his shaky fingers, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Axl, _please_ , you gotta let me," he begged, reaching out with his other hand to grasp at Axl's wrist, yanking him closer.

"I don't have to _let_ you do anything," Axl insisted, glaring at his bandmate, but he immediately crumpled when he laid eyes on his friends absolutely heart broken image, chewing anxiously on his lower lip. "Slash, I'm not your fucking saviour, man, I'm not your fucking... trophy-- your _reward_ for quitting drugs."

"I know you're not, baby," Slash crooned helplessly, making Axl wince at the pet name, "But I just... can't hold it back anymore. You're all I fuckin' think about, man, you know that."

Axl scoffed. "I know shit! I know what you think is fit to fucking tell me, and even then it's usually a copped out version of the story. Fuck Axl, right? He doesn't need to know anything, but if anybody is upset Axl will take care of it!"

"Stop," Slash hissed weakly, fisting his hands in his curly hair. "I can't deal with your temper today."

"My _fucking temper?!"_ Axl growled, slapping Slash's hand away when it reached out in a piss poor attempt to soothe his temper. "Fuck you, asshole," he spat, standing up from the couch, " _Fuck_ you, _fuck_ your drugs and _fuck_ your fucking daily blowjobs, you prick!" He stormed out of the hotel room, dodging Slash's desperate hands trying to yank him back, slamming the door on his lead guitarists shell-shocked face and charging off down the hall. He didn't give a fuck if he was practically proving Slash's point about his _temper_. He saw Izzy and Duff leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway smoking, and they both immediately straightened up when they saw him, but Axl just pushed through them, having to basically shoulder barge Duff out of the way.

"Axl?" Izzy asked, his voice panicked. Axl just flipped them off with both hands without looking, then raced down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the fucking elevator. Everyone just needed to leave him the hell alone, because the next person to lay hands on him were gonna be fucking missing a few goddamn teeth.

***

It had been maybe an hour, give or take ten minutes or so. No one had went after him, and for that he was thankful. He was sure Slash would have tried but Izzy probably stopped him, knowing he desperately needed some time to himself, even for a little bit. His socked feet scraped against the concrete-- he felt pretty ridiculous walking around outside in an oversized hoodie, sweat pants and no shoes, but he wasn't exactly planning on leaving the hotel that morning. He was just glad he hadn't been recognized.

He sighed heavily, leaning against a tall building and gazing up at the sky. The weather didn't look like it would hold up for much longer, and he knew he had to make it back to the hotel soon, whether he liked it or not. He felt kinda bad for bolting like that and leaving Izzy and Duff to deal with Slash, but _fuck_... he needed a breather. Could you blame him?

He was... conflicted-- for lack of a better explanation of his feelings.

Last night was a pretty horrible experience; he was put into a situation where he was completely vulnerable and exposed, and he hated feeling that way, and to throw another spanner in the works, he had even found himself enjoying it for a moment before it all got too much. And now, this morning, with Slash laying one on him... what's a man supposed to do? How is he supposed to react to all of this? This shit didn't come with a manual or a do-over option. He felt like he was stranded in the middle of an ocean without a life jacket. Dramatic, but accurate.

He raked his fingers through his messy hair and groaned softly in frustration, feeling like tearing the strands from his scalp. He pushed off the wall and started walking back to the hotel, glaring down at his feet the entire way there, trying to reassure himself that the rest of the day could only get better, but his mood still hadn't improved when he reached the hotel. He stood anxiously in the elevator, chewing at his thumb nail and tapping his foot restlessly. "Fuck," he whispered shakily as he shuffled down the hall to his and Slash's room, which was pretty much the entire bands room, with how much they frequented it. He was surprised Stevie hadn't dragged a mattress into their room yet, which he had done the last hotel they were at, claiming there was a rat in his bathroom, but Axl knew he just didn't like sleeping alone. He had ended up climbing into Axl's bed through the night, nervous to wake him up and apologizing frantically when he did, but Axl didn't mind. He didn't much like sleeping alone, either.

He patted down his pockets for the keycard when he reached the door, then rolled his eyes at himself before lifting his hand and knocking to be let in, feeling awkward. He shuffled uneasily in place before the door swung open, revealing an anxious looking Steven. See? Axl's hotel room was always the bands head quarters.

 _"You're back,"_ Steven stated in relief, lunging forward and wrapping Axl in an unwarranted hug, grasping him tight and swaying slightly. "Thank god," the blonde muttered into his shoulder, his voice muffled.

"Yeah," Axl said awkwardly, chuckling nervously when Steven stepped back, a little confused. "What's wrong?"

Steven's eyes widened comically before he punched him playfully on the arm. "You left, man! Had me worried. I tried looking for you but Izzy wouldn't let me go!" he whined, yanking Axl into the room when he continued standing tensely in the doorway. "Don't leave again," he said timidly, giving him another lifeless smack on the arm one more time for good measure.

"I won't," Axl promised, smiling weakly at his friend. The rest of the band had been surprised at how close the two had become, and Axl still felt awkward sometimes, but he felt a deep fondness for their drummer that he couldn't explain. He thought of him as a little brother, even. And the little fucker had weaselled his way into Axl's life tenaciously, until he'd relented to his stubbornness, and now Axl couldn't picture his life without Steven fucking Adler in it.

"You're back," Izzy said coolly, having materialized out of thin air, his tone as nonchalant as always, helping Axl calm down at the familiarity of it. Duff slipped out of the bedroom and softly closed the door behind him, then sighed in relief when he saw Axl.

"You're back!" he cried, leaning slightly into Izzy in his obvious relief.

"You three are great at stating the fuckin' obvious," Axl bitched, rolling his eyes, then he glanced suspiciously at the bedroom door. "Why were you in there? Where's Slash?" Duff shot Izzy a nervous glance, then forced a smile at Axl.

"He's just taking a nap," he lied feebly, before a strangled cry and a muffled thud sounded from inside the room.

"He sleep walks sometimes," Steven put in, shrugging anxiously, "Ya' know how he gets."

Axl settled them both with a completely unimpressed look. "You guys are fucking ridiculous," he hissed under his breath then raised a questioning eyebrow at Izzy, knowing he at least wouldn't try to bullshit him.

"He's chucking a shitty," he supplied helpfully. "A lot like you, actually."

"Oh, is that right?" he asked sardonically, flipping him off before walking over to the bedroom and swinging the door open, unveiling the apparent horror inside and swatting Duff's hand away when he grabbed his arm anxiously in warning.

"Fuck off," he hissed, annoyed, then stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Time for damage control, yet again.

"Saul?" he asked, glancing around the room in confusion. Where was the raging half-man, half-beast at?

He heard a pathetic sniffle from the other side of the room and walked around the bed cautiously, sighing heavily in exasperation when he saw Slash curled up on the floor between the bed and the wall, nursing a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels to his chest.

"Slash, man, you alright?" he asked awkwardly, feeling out of place. He was never good at comforting someone when they were upset, especially when that person was crying. That was Duff's area of expertise, and sometimes Izzy, too-- well, at least when it came to him.

"Axl?" Slash rasped out, glancing up at him through hazy eyes and wild curls. _"Ax?"_

"Yeah, it's me," he said soothingly, crouching down in front of his guitarists crumpled form and offering a comforting smile, then his jaw dropped in shock when he got a closer look at Slash's face and noticed the black eye and slightly swollen cheekbone. "The fuck happened to your face?" he asked in alarm. 

"Izzy," Slash mumbled out sadly, "He punched me."

"Why?" he asked in confusion, shuffling closer.

"'Cos he was damn well asking for it!" Izzy's voice floated through the door, "And I'll do it again!"

"Fuck _off_ , Izzy!" Axl said with an exaggerated eyeroll, feeling his lips twitch a bit in amusement. "Stop fucking listening in!"

He heard a petulant huff then shuffling footsteps, but he could still see a shadow beneath the door when he peaked over the bed.

"You too, Stevie!" he demanded, then heard another childish whine before the shadow vanished. He turned back to Slash to see him staring at him with cloudy, regretful eyes.

"M'sorry, Axl," he mumbled, his voice shaking, threatening more tears.

"It's... it's okay, man," he said, cringing at his own awkwardness. Where was Duff when you needed him...

 _"S'not!"_ Slash exclaimed, shuffling closer clumsily and glaring at him. "Shut your-- your stupid pretty face."

"Sorry?" Axl said, at a complete fucking loss at what to say or do.

"No!" Slash yelled, making Axl jump in shock, "You aren't the one who needs ta' apologize, Axl. Jus' shuddup." Axl almost apologized again and Slash sensed it, giving him an exasperated look. Axl raised his hands in surrender and gestured for him to continue, leaning an arm up on the bed and giving Slash his undivided attention.

"I'm a dick," he said contritely, "And you're an angel." His regretful tone turned reverent as he gazed up at Axl with adoring eyes. "Your name should be Angel instead of Axl... Angel Rose..." he trailed off then shook his head at himself, "Shut up, Slash."

Axl raised his eyebrows at the drunken idiot in front of him, even more confused now.

"I mean... like-- wait, _what?"_ Slash said slowly, bringing a hand up to rub at his eye, then winced at the pain. "Ya' know... you should hit me too, Axl..." he trailed off sadly.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna do that," he said shortly, then reached out for the bottle of Jack, "I think you've had enough to drink, Saul."

Slash's hand shot out lightening fast and grabbed his wrist, "I have _not_ ," he said huffily, then tugged his hand closer gently and turned it over so it was palm-up. He trailed his fingertip over Axl's palm, tracing the lines with a surprising amount of tenderness, then slipped his own hand into Axl's and gripped it tight. "Do you hate me, Ax?" he asked, his voice just a whisper, glancing up at him with fearful eyes, like he was afraid to know the answer.

"Of course not, Slash," Axl responded, letting his thumb trace circles on the top of his hand, "I could never hate you, man."

Slash sighed shakily. "I hate myself," he admitted brokenly, shaking his head. "You should hate me, Axl... you should wanna hit me." Axl's eyes widened in shock when Slash started crying again, small heartbreaking sobs escaping from his twisted mouth, bowing his head so his hair concealed his face. "Just hit me... go on. Punch me!"

"Slash, man, stop," Axl said cautiously, shuffling onto his knees and moving in closer, slipping his hand from Slash's and gently using it to tilt his head up to face him. "You're in a bad place right now and you gotta snap out of it... do you want to go for a shower? Do you want something to eat? What do you want?"

"I want you to hit me!" Slash cried, his voice breaking and spit flying from his mouth. He was hysterical. "I want you to love me," he whispered so quietly Axl had to strain to hear. He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling helplessly for a moment, feeling so confused and pressured. Oh, what to do...

"Hitting you isn't going to solve anything," he said awkwardly after a tense few moments filled with Slash's cries, "It'll just make for more annoying questions in interviews." His attempt at humor fell flat.

"But I deserve it," Slash insisted softly, sniffling and wiping his face with the back of his hand, flicking his hair out of his eyes and staring at him intensely, "Axl..." he shook his head sadly, reaching out with needy hands, "Jus' hold me, please..."

Axl felt like a parent as Slash crawled into his lap, straddled his thighs and wrapped his arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his face into his neck, still weeping softly. Axl breathed in deeply and began gently rubbing his back in soothing patterns, leaning his chin on Slash's shoulder and rocking them very slightly. He grimaced as Slash wept into his neck, feeling spit and snot and tears soak his skin, wondering how he was going to calm Slash down before he drowned in bodily fluids.

"Stop crying, Slash... it's okay, man," he whispered into his neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly in a hug. "Just calm down."

His words seemed to have the opposite effect on Slash. He began crying even harder and he started to tremble in his arms, panicking himself the more he tried to calm himself down. He was having a panic attack... ah, _shit_. Axl quickly tried to come up with a solution to fix this messy situation they were stuck in.

"Talk to me softly, there's something in your eyes," he sang just above a whisper into Slash's ear, "Don't hang your head in sorrow, and please don't cry."

Slash's breath hitched in his throat and his cries temporarily ceased, so Axl continued, albeit hesitantly.

"I know how you feel inside, I've been there before... Something is changing inside you and don't you know..." he trailed off self consciously, and Slash let out a small huff into his neck, wanting him to continue.

"Keep going," he demanded softly, nuzzling further into his throat. Axl rolled his eyes fondly, but nevertheless continued. 

"Don't you cry tonight, I still love you baby... Don't you cry tonight," he sang softly, his hands continuing their soothing patterns on Slash's back, "Don't you cry tonight, there's a heaven above you, baby... and don't you cry tonight."

"Your voice is angelic," Slash whispered into his neck, "Angel Rose."

"Shut up with that," Axl said with a small laugh, squeezing him lightly, "Are you okay now?" he asked hesitantly, squinting at Slash when he leaned back to face him. He hadn't put in his contacts this morning and everything was kinda blurry.

"No," Slash answered with another sad sniffle, "I'm not okay, 'cos I'm an asshole, and you shouldn't have to deal with me but you _always_ do no matter what, you're always there for me..." he trailed off with a whimper, leaning in and pressing his face in the hollow of Axl's throat, his head resting underneath Axl's chin. "And I... I can't stop thinking that-- _hoping_ that the reason you care so much is 'cos you feel things for me, like how I feel for you... but it's all just wishful thinking, ain't it? I mean, you're Axl Rose, what could a guy like you ever see in someone like me, huh? And I've been such an asshole to you, Ax, I really have been... and it took me a while to realize it... but can you forgive me? Please?"

Axl swallowed thickly, and he knew Slash could feel his nervousness, his heart racing a mile a minute. It was so weird to have Slash talk about it... about how he felt-- about _him_. It felt so surreal, like a dream. "There's nothing to forgive, Slash," he mumbled out distractedly, wrapping his arms around Slash's shoulders and squeezing him in comfort, resting his cheek on the top of his curly head while lost in thought.

"Stop it," Slash whined into his chest, sounding choked up again, "Stop being so forgiving and-- and disregarding how much of a dick I've been to you! _God_ , Axl... just..." he leaned back and stared him in the face, looking so sad and torn. "You make it so easy to love you, Axl... I've fell so fuckin' hard, haven't I?"

Axl's eyes widened comically and his mouth opened for him to reply, but nothing came out, so he gave an awkward, jerky shrug. Slash leaned closer and pressed his face into his collar bone, inhaling deeply through his runny nose.

"And, God, you smell so fucking good," he groaned out, fisting his hands in Axl's hoodie, "All the time, man... you always smell _so_ good-- like, what even is that? Is it you, like, naturally? Is it cologne?"

Axl felt so fucking awkward, man... this conversation kept going up and down-- emotions were running high and Slash was drunk as a skunk right now, and he felt Slash either needed to come down to his level or he needed to get on his, because they were on complete different wavelengths right now.

"No, no, it's all you! 'Cos when I go through your clothes or sleep in your bed after you've slept in it for a while, it all smells like this... your pillow always smells so good, like this... and like your shampoo, which is-- what, kiwi fruit? Who would've thought that'd be an enjoyable scent?" Slash ranted, causing Axl's cheeks to get warmer by the second.

"Oops, I just let you know how creepy I am... oops. I once stole a pair of your used boxers from the bathroom-- _oops_ ," Slash giggled and brought a hand to his mouth, trying to shut himself up. "And that one time I chased you with my snake 'cos I liked hearing you scream-- ugh, god, shut the hell up!"

Axl stared at the wall in amazed shock, feeling so out of depth... Jesus, what the fuck was he hearing right now? Slash was laughing into his chest, feeling so fucking embarrassed but he couldn't seem to shut himself up.

"And that time I had Duff put everything in the tour bus on all the high shelves so you had to stretch up real high to get to everything, and you'd make all these cute little grunting noises and stick your ass out, and you'd glare at everyone when they'd laugh-- did ya' know you look like an angry red kitten when you frown real hard like that?"

Axl gaped at the closed bedroom door, wanting to kick Duff's ass for encouraging Slash's creepy fucking tendencies, but there was currently a drunken mess giggling on his lap that was preventing him from going anywhere.

"Oh! And that one time when--" Axl slapped a hand over Slash's mouth, shaking his head rapidly.

"I've heard more than enough, trust me!" he spat out, able to feel how warm his cheeks were. "Just... just _stop_. Please."

Slash giggled into his hand and stuck his tongue out to lap at his palm, making Axl roll his eyes and shoot him an exasperated look. "How did you get this drunk in the span of one hour?"

Slash mumbled into his palm but Axl couldn't understand what he was saying, so he reluctantly lowered his hand. "It's 'cos I'm not high, man... alcohol works like, ten times faster when I'm not high off my face... isn't it cool?"

"Just _so_ cool," Axl said sarcastically, "But don't you think you should sober up a little? We need to have a serious talk, man."

Slash's goofy grin vanished in the blink of an eye and was replaced with a fearful expression, his eyes wide and doe-like. "A talk? A serious one?" He bit nervously at his plump bottom lip, looking away from Axl's calculating gaze. "Are you kicking me out of the band?" he asked in a whisper.

"What? No, of course not, you idiot," Axl answered with an eyeroll, "We just gotta talk... about last night."

" _Fuck_ last night," Slash growled, making his eyes widen in surprise. "I'll go fuckin' _celibate_ , I don't care! Jus' forget about the stupid fucking contract, okay? I'm so-sorry!" he hiccupped drunkenly, grasping tightly at Axl's hoodie. "I'm sorry..."

"So, you're just gonna keep shooting up and snorting coke?" Axl asked, glaring at him in disappointment. "Slash, your drug habit is going to be the _death of you-"_

"No, no!" Slash cut him off, shaking his head and sending curls sprawling into his face, "I'm still quitting, don' worry about it, Axl. I'm just saying that you don't gotta-- ya know, suck me off no more..." he flashed Axl a shy, cautious look, a hint of a smirk on his lips, "I mean, unless you _want_ to."

Axl's shoulders sagged with a palpable amount of relief. "Oh. Okay, cool. I'm proud of you, Slash... and I'm always gonna be here to help you."

Slash quirked his mouth and looked down into his lap, making a small hum in his throat, sounding almost disappointed. "Yep," he responded in a clipped voice.

Axl frowned, "What's wrong?" he asked, trying to catch his eye but failing.

Slash shrugged. "Jus' feel sad. Don' worry 'bout it."

"Why're you sad?" he asked, brushing a few curly locks from his face and tucking them behind his ear. "Because you don't want to stop doing drugs?"

There was a small confused bout of silence before Slash reluctantly replied. "I jus' feel like you're-- like you're letting me down easy... _I'm always gonna be here to help you,"_ he imitated Axl's words with a short roll of his eyes. "And it's not your fault, I know that-- _I'm_ the one who keeps complicating everything. Just 'cos I love you don't mean you gotta love me, but it still hurts, man."

There it was again, the L word, making Axl's heart flutter every time he heard it. In his entire short life he'd always wanted someone to say that to him, and mean it. He was a pain in the ass, and a hard man to love, and here Slash was... and Slash has seen _every_ side of him; his easy going side, his moody side, his manic-depressive side... he has seen him trash so many hotel rooms and scream in peoples-- in _his_ face-- and he'd helped him through the hard days where he couldn't get out of bed, where he wouldn't eat or shower or even _sleep_ \-- just lay there for days staring at the fucking wall-- Slash had seen _all_ that, yet here he was throwing out the L word to him like he was fucking Cupid and they were both starring in some romantic comedy. What could have possibly made Slash think he was even the tiniest bit loveable... let alone say to him he was so _easy_ to love...?

"Just... slow down, Slash, okay?" Axl pleaded, running a hand through his own messy locks, sighing heavily and settling Slash with a look that screamed _I'm exhausted._ "We got heaps of time to stress and be sad, but for the sake of our sanity, let's just try and take it easy for today... does that sound alright?"

Slash nodded his head mutely, wrapping his arms around his own torso and curling in on himself.

"You don't need drugs to feel okay," Axl said warmly, placing a comforting hand on the guitarists knee and squeezing. "What's gonna help take your mind off all this shit?"

Slash shrugged jerkily, flashing his eyes up to him shyly before looking away quickly. "Just, kinda... need you close, is all-- that'll be enough to keep me calm and shit," he said awkwardly, shrugging again. Axl nodded understandably, albeit tensely, then gave him a playful swat on the thigh.

"Come on, man, let's go eat something or have a couple drinks, yeah?" he offered, flashing him a warm smile and making to stand, but Slash gripped his wrist and made a small, whining sound in his throat. Axl gave him a questioning look.

"Thank you," Slash murmured quietly, pulling him down gently until Axl awkwardly clambered into his lap and was enveloped in his strong arms. "For everything, ya' know."

"It's okay," Axl reassured, moving to wrap his own arms around Slash's shoulders to return his passionate hug. "It's what I'm here for."

"To look after me?" Slash asked dubiously into his neck, tightening his arms. "That doesn't sound like a functional relationship."

"We all look after each other in this band, man. We're a family," Axl whispered, then chuckled. "Some of the shit Izzy has done for me over the years has me wondering how he can still put up with me."

"Yeah... I think I'm pretty close to driving Duff clinically insane," Slash said quietly-- they were both whispering unintentionally, keeping the moment intimate and personal. "Stevie is a little shit... the situations I've got his ass out of, man..." he trailed off with a muffled chuckle into Axl's neck, making his skin tingle with the gust of his warm breath.

"See?" Axl said, "We're all a family, and we all have our dramatic moments-- even Duff and Izzy, even though they're practically the mommy and daddy of this band."

"Nah, I think you're the mom," Slash said decisively, giggling when Axl hit him upside the head. Slash then leaned back and stared at him earnestly, his eyes flittering between Axl's own. "So... you're gonna help me through this? You're gonna be right next to me the entire way?"

Axl nodded his head slowly, almost hesitantly. "Of course. I'll be right next to you, Slasher," he said comfortingly, not really aware that Slash literally, completely and _wholeheartedly_ meant _right next to him the entire fucking time_. "We're all gonna be with you, so don't even worry about it."

Slash smiled, not bothering to say that he only wanted-- _needed_ Axl with him at all times, but of course he was thinking it, as he was staring adoringly up at Axl's beautiful, earnest face, wanting so desperately to lean up and kiss him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going through a bit of writers block but thought I'd try to get something out :)

"I'm tired," Slash whispered into his ear, followed by a huge yawn. He stared at Axl with heavy lidded brown eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at them sleepily. He looked like a little puppy dog. 

"Then you should go to sleep," Axl said softly. Slash glared at him. "What?" he asked in confusion, which prompted Slash to roll his sleepy eyes at him, annoyed. 

"I'm not going alone," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"I'm not tired yet," Axl told him gently, patting him on the arm, "Just go to bed and I'll come in later, okay?"

"Whatever," Slash hissed, shoving Axl's comforting hand away, getting up and stalking off to the bedroom, making sure to slam the door. Axl released the pent up breath he was holding, waving a hand at Izzy dismissively when he raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.

"It's hard being a parent," he joked half heartedly, picking up his half empty beer from the coffee table and taking a generous swig. "I'm hungry, do you guys wanna order room service?"

Twenty five minutes later they all had food ready to be demolished. Axl knew what Slash liked, and knew that he would be annoyed if he didn't get any, so he got some for him like the mother hen he was becoming. He knocked on the bedroom door then pushed it open tentatively when there was no answer. "Slash?" he whispered, wondering if he should just let the younger man sleep. It would be easier on all of them that way. 

But then Slash rolled over and settled him with an annoyed glare. "What do you want?" he asked in a huff. 

"We got some food, come eat," he said softly, backing up slowly and gesturing for him to follow. "Come on, before Duff inhales everything." Slash rolled his eyes but nevertheless got up and followed him, plonking down onto the couch between Axl and Duff, settling everyone with a tired, irritated glare. 

"Here," Axl said, handing him a plate filled with honey chicken, offering him a small smile when Slash quietly thanked him, stabbing his fork into a piece of chicken and shoving it into his mouth. Axl started on his bowl of pasta with bacon and mushroom sauce, happily munching on a few mouthfuls before he felt eyes on him. 

"What's that?" Slash asked, not unlike a child as he stared at his bowl of pasta, licking his plump lower lip. Axl rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

"Pasta," he deadpanned, then rolled his eyes when Slash continued salivating over his food. He stabbed his fork into a few pasta shells, making sure he got some bacon chips with it, then lifted it to Slash's mouth, which opened wide and welcomed in the mouthful greedily.

"Mhm," Slash moaned, chewing with an open mouth, Axl getting a glimpse of the mushed up food inside. Gross. "That's good."

"It is," Axl replied shortly then continued eating, trying to ignore the eyes burning holes in the side of his face. He could only do that for so long before he started to get creeped out by his insistent staring. "What, Slash?" he sighed, blinking at him slowly, raising an eyebrow when Slash just grinned at him sheepishly. He shook his head in resignation, scooping up another generous serving of his pasta and hand feeding it to him in defeat. 

"'Fank you," Slash said around his mouthful, chewing it with an open mouth again, then belched loudly after he had swallowed it all. "It's yummy."

"It is," Axl said again, eating what was left of his pasta before setting his bowl down onto the coffee table, picking up his water- yes, he had stopped drinking- and downed the glass. He glanced back at Slash to see him happily munching on his chicken, his eyes falling shut every few seconds before snapping open again. He really did seem to be tired. Axl almost felt bad for waking him up-- but had he even been sleeping, or just laying in there sulking?

"Do you want a drink?" Axl asked him, standing up after he nodded. "Soda, water, juice?" he asked, purposefully leaving alcohol out. He wasn't in the mood to deal with drunk Slash tonight.

"Orange juice," Slash decided after a few moments of sleepy contemplation. Good boy, Axl thought approvingly.

He made sure to grab a straw, knowing Slash was probably too sleepy not to spill it everywhere without the help. He sat back down and handed him his juice, getting a mumbled thanks from Slash for his deed. He sipped on it slowly through his straw before handing the empty glass to Axl-- who rolled his eyes in annoyance and leaned forward, depositing it onto the coffee table with the rest of the mess-- and then he curled up into a tiny ball with his head in Axl's lap and his bare feet pressed against Duff's thigh, letting out a massive yawn and letting his curls fall into his eyes to block out the light.

Axl's hand automatically landed in the mass of curls and started scratching soothingly at his scalp, much like how Duff automatically cupped his hand around one of Slash's ankles and raked his thumb rhythmically over the top of his foot. Together they lulled Slash to sleep, but continued with their ministrations long after he had nodded off between them, soft snores floating from his mouth. 

They were all pretty much sober tonight, all on their best behaviour-- very unlike Guns N' Roses, but they felt they needed a teensy little break from the partying, even if it was just for the night. Stevie had a tummy ache from eating too much and proceeded to curl up at Axl's feet, leaning his weight onto his legs before he too fell asleep, face twitching every now and then as he dreamed. It wasn't too long before Duff started yawning, then he eventually just gave up and slumped over to the side, his head resting on Slash's hip with an arm slung over his thighs, practically cuddling his ass with his long legs awkwardly spilling out onto the floor. That just left Axl and Izzy. 

"The kids are asleep," Izzy whispered, chuckling at the sight fondly. "Amateurs."

"We need a nanny," Axl mumbled quietly, running his fingers through Slash's curly tresses. It needed a wash. 

"You are the nanny," Izzy replied, smirking because he knew Axl couldn't smack him like he wanted to, not with two people asleep on him with another person asleep on the person asleep on him. Asshole.

"Asshole," Axl repeated his thoughts, his smile fading as his fingers tugged the hair away from Slash's face gently, revealing the bruising around his eye. "Why'd you hit him, Izz?"

"Why didn't you?" Izzy shot back, resting his chin in his palm and settling him with a calculating gaze. Axl rolled his eyes. 

"Don't psycho-analyze me," he huffed out, shooting him an annoyed glance. "Answer the question."

"You first," Izzy insisted, his lips twitching up into a smirk at the exasperation on Axl's face. 

"I asked first," he hissed. 

"Good on you," Izzy chuckled, then all traces of humor vanished from his face. "I punched him because he deserved it, Billy."

Axl opened his mouth to reply then shut it when he found himself speechless.

"He doesn't know," he eventually mumbled, lightly tracing his fingertip over the purple bruising around Slash's eye.

"He should know, they all should," Izzy said gently, nibbling on his lip when Axl shot him a warning glare.

"It was a lifetime ago, Izzy. Back when I was still Billy." 

"You're the same person, just a different name."

"I am not," he hissed, glaring at his best friend. "Now shut the fuck up."

"I also punched him because he kissed you," Izzy continued stubbornly, raising his eyebrows when Axl's cheeks started burning. There was a small stretch of silence before Izzy spoke again. "Wasn't expecting that reaction."

"What?" Axl asked defensively, frowning at him, then remembering what Slash said, about him looking like an angry red kitten. He tried to smooth the lines between his eyebrows.

"You liked it," Izzy said, smiling hesitantly in realization. "You enjoyed the kiss."

"You're about to enjoy my foot up your ass," he spat.

"Was there tongue?" Izzy asked in curiosity. "Slash only just got out that he kissed you before I smacked him."

"No, Izzy," Axl said, glowering at his best friend, "It lasted for a second, it was... chaste. He tried kissing me again but I turned away."

Izzy was about to respond but then Slash shifted around restlessly, slowly waking up. He lifted his head and blinked sleepily up at Axl, then looked down at Duff, who was still sprawled out on his lower half, snoring into his hip. "M'tired," he whined, letting his head drop back to Axl's lap. 

"Then go to bed," Izzy said flatly with an eyeroll. Slash glared at him. 

"You fucking go to bed, you rabid twat," he hissed, sitting up in a flash, dislodging Duff from his slumber. 

"Hey, chill out," Axl soothed, running a hand down Slash's smooth back, shooting Izzy a warning look when he only laughed at him, egging Slash on. 

"Yeah, chill out, Saul, before I make your eyes match," Izzy hissed, suddenly seething with his own anger. 

"You fucking asshole," Slash spat, lunging forward in a flash before Axl gripped his wrist and yanked him back. 

"Cut it the fuck out, you almost kneed Steven in the face," he demanded, glancing down at Steven, who had woken up amid the chaos, very fucking confused.

"He started it!" Slash yelled, pegging him with his angry glare now. "I didn't even do anything."

"I don't care who started it, I'm finishing it," he growled, leaving no room for argument. 

"Yeah, alright, take his side," Slash spat, "No surprise there at all! Sorry I even woke up, I didn't mean to interrupt or anything!"

"God, save me the dramatic flare," Izzy drawled, standing up from the arm chair, grabbing his packet of cigarettes off the coffee table. "I'll leave you to your lovers quarrel." 

"Stop being a jerk, Izzy," Axl said, frowning at his friend in confused hurt. 

Izzy sighed heavily. "Sorry," he said to only Axl, sounding sincere. He leaned down and pecked him on the forehead, giving him a meaningful look when he straightened up. "Can't help it, Billy. See you tomorrow."

Axl ran a hand through his hair with a huff, watching as Izzy slipped out the door and left. He felt bad that his best friend was wound so tight because of him, knowing that Izzy worried about him way more than he actually let on. He looked back to Slash to see him glaring at him, his eyes showing traces of hurt. 

"What was that?" he demanded, his voice small. "He called you Billy and kissed you. What the hell was that?"

"He's worried about me, is all," he said tiredly, raking a hand down his face. "Stuff from our childhood."

"Stuff like what?" he prodded, grabbing Axl's hand in his own and squeezing it tight.

"It's personal, Slash," he said softly, "Don't worry about it."

"Izzy seems pretty worried about it," he insisted, eyes narrowing. 

"Drop it," he said dismissively, "I'm tired, I wanna go to bed."

"We'll get out of your hair," Duff said softly, ushering Steven out of the doorway, throwing a tentative smile back at Axl. He raised his hand in a wave.

"Are we going to bed now?" Slash asked him quietly, looking down at their joined hands. 

"Yeah. You gotta brush your teeth though, and shower. You smell worse than Duff's socks."

"Do not," he immediately shot back, before taking a tentative whiff of his under arm, then shot Axl a sheepish grin. "I do smell bad..."

"Yeah," Axl huffed, smiling gently. "C'mon."

They stood beside each other at the sink as they brushed their teeth, then Slash jumped in the shower, whining that it was cold. Axl made quick work of making the bed, since all the blankets had been thrown off onto the floor, then climbed in and waited for Slash. 

He padded into the bedroom a little while later in nothing but a towel, his hair dripping wet. "Will you brush my hair?" he asked, grabbing his comb from his suitcase and handing it to a sleepy Axl. "Please?" he whined when he was glared at.

"Whatever, sit down," he grumbled, shifting to sit at the edge of the bed. Slash settled down between his legs on the floor, shaking his head like a dog and sending water droplets everywhere. 

"That's fucking cold, you shit head," Axl hissed, carefully starting to comb through the soaked curls. "You shouldn't sleep on wet hair, ya' know."

"You're the one who made me shower," Slash mumbled, tilting his head forward and letting his eyes fall shut. It took a little while but soon enough the comb was gliding effortlessly through his wet hair, always springing back into those perfect ringlets, even when wet. 

"It's still dripping everywhere," Axl pointed out, "Did you even dry it?"

"Not really," Slash said, then shifted around, yanking the towel from around his waist and handing it back to Axl. "Here."

Axl cheeks flamed, gingerly accepting the damp towel, attempting to dry his hair with a tomato for a face. "There's a blow dryer in my suitcase," he said quietly, wringing Slash's hair out. "Do you want me to blow dry it?"

"Nah," Slash said sleepily, "Too tired."

"Okay, well... all done," he announced, his eyes widening comically when Slash immediately shot up, getting a spectacular view of his bare ass, then his... other parts when he spun around. He scooted back like a startled crab, retreating to his side of the bed and diving under the blankets, distracting himself with fluffing up his pillow as Slash climbed into bed beside him. "You... you're not gonna get dressed?" he squeaked out. 

"No," Slash sighed, shifting onto his stomach and sliding his arms under the pillow, blinking at Axl through a few curls. "Turn the lamp off?"

Axl stretched backwards and clicked the lamp off. He could barely make out the vague black blob that was Slash sprawled out next to him, but soon his eyes adjusted and he could see things clearer, see his dark, wet hair spread over the white pillowcase. His eyes slid down the curve of his back, seeing the small rise and fall of his breathing. The blankets were bunched around his slim waist, and a little lower Axl's eyes drank in the swell of his ass under the covers, imagining his smooth skin sliding against the sheets, rubbing against him... completely bare... warm, smooth... 

"Ax?" Slash whispered, startling Axl out of his perverted thoughts. He sucked in a harsh breath and tried to sound like he wasn't just thinking perverted thoughts... about Slash. Who was naked. Right nex to him. 

"Yes?" he responded quietly, fisting the blankets in his hands nervously. 

"You're thinking real loud."

"Sorry," he mumbled into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and mentally cursing himself for ever being born. 

"What you thinking about, Ax?"

"Ya' know... the show the day after tomorrow," he lied feebly. "Bit nervous."

"You shouldn't be. Just sing to the crowd like you sung to me... you shouldn't ever feel nervous. You're too talented."

"You're talented and you still get nervous," he pointed out. "You wear your top hat like a security blanket."

"I have stage fright," Slash agreed, "You're so amazing how you can look out at all those people, sing to 'em and talk to 'em. Makes my head spin if I glance out at the audience for even a second."

"Yeah, well. I'm the front man, gotta put on a show, give them what they paid for. I sometimes feel like an idiot up there, twirling around and screeching into the microphone. Feel like a brat."

"You are a brat," Slash giggled, "But you always look gorgeous up there, real confident. Sexy."

Axl's cheeks grew warm, again. "Thanks," he said shyly.

"Always," Slash said, and Axl could hear the smile in his voice. "Good night."

"Night," he whispered, closing his eyes then nuzzling his cheek into the pillow. Sleep came fast.

**Author's Note:**

> Please take the time to comment and/or leave me a kudos! Constructive criticism is highly encouraged, but please be nice. I am fragile.


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